Fifty Shades of Blood
by RebelYell11
Summary: What if Ana and Christian had been vampires? What if his dark secret wasn't his Red Room? This is a different kind of erotic. Blood instead of bondage. Fangs instead of fingering. 50 Shades just got darker...and hotter.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

Blood. The most powerful liquid in existence. It sustains all life. Without it, death. Not just for humans and animals alike, but for my kind too; Vampires. We need blood as much as any living creature – just in a different way. It is that thing which lets us maintain our half-alive status. That rich, red stuff flowing through the veins of every human being on the planet, so salty and yet so sweet…it is our nourishment, our food and water, our most desperate need and craving.  
Much like the porphyria sufferers of old, from whom the tales of vampires originated, we lack the ability to create certain chemicals in our blood that are needed for life. So we are suspended in a state of half-death, forced to drink the blood of others to gain the chemicals we need.  
There have been those who have tried other ways – transfusions and such. But the shock of human blood entering our systems so rapidly kills us. For some reason, which even the oldest of vampire scientists cannot explain, only by ingesting the blood and letting it seep slowly into our bloodstream through digestion can we get what we need.  
The fangs are an evolutionary accessory, lengthened canines designed to make it easier for us to puncture human flesh and get to the crimson wealth inside. Daylight destroys our red blood cells, releasing a toxin into our systems which turns our blood to purple sludge. Garlic, though, is simply a delicious herb on pizza, and anyone, human or not, will die if you stab them in the chest with a great chunk of wood.  
Super-speed? Turning into a bat or mist? No reflection in mirrors? All nonsense. We are not myths. We are as real as you. We are no more evil than any carnivore – we feed on what we must to survive, like anyone. It is only that we are a minority, and minorities through history have been prosecuted and killed simply for being different. Some still are, even in the twenty-first century.  
We don't deserve the reputation we have, nor the punishment we incur when we are discovered. But in the day of modern technology, it's getting harder for us to hide. There are cameras everywhere. And we must be careful to hide the marks of our feeding, otherwise the media will have a frenzy.  
People believe less these days, they don't put stock in myth and legend, but if enough evidence were collected, vampires would be hunted once again, as they were thousands of years before.  
And I, for one, do not wish to die.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter One

 _"Tell me, Sweetness, are you afraid to die?"  
The words were a whisper in the darkness, a threat on a breath of cold air. My heart raced, fear paralysing my legs. Long, chilled fingers grasped my jaw gently, and I felt sharp nails dig into my cheeks. The stink of old blood and dirt clogged my nose. My ears picked up the sound of cars in the distance, the sound of leaves rustling on the trees planted around the graveyard. But not the breathing of the person holding me, not the beat of their heart.  
I suspected, with an instinct borne from the deepest and oldest part of my brain, that this person had no heartbeat, no need of air. This was not a human being. _

_Part of me wished I weren't blind, so that I could see this monster, see a way to escape. But another part was grateful of my perpetual darkness, for it saved me the sight of the creature about to kill me.  
The fingers grasped my face tighter. "Answer me, girl. Are you afraid to die?"  
Two years ago, I would have said no. I would have gladly slipped into an early grave. The loss of my sister had almost destroyed me. The accident that had killed her, had left me blinded. A fireworks display had gone very, very wrong.  
Now, though, I was finally adjusting. I had accepted I would never see again, that I would never hug my sister again. I had to live for her, since she couldn't. I had to do the things she'd always wanted to and now never could. That goal was the only reason I'd survived the spiraling abyss of depression.  
To the creature, I whispered, "Yes."  
It whispered back, "Good."  
And then it bit my neck. _

I opened my eyes. I could see the grain of the wooden lid of my coffin. I could see the paleness of my hands as I pressed them against the lid to push it open. I saw the warm, flickering candlelight of my Day Room.  
The one blessing of being Turned had been the return of my sight. The process had healed the damage to my eyes. But, after almost a year, I still wasn't sure it was worth the price. I'd had to leave my grieving family in order to join The Coven. They were a group of people like me – vampires.  
"Ana, darling, how are you this morning?" cooed a familiar voice from the corner of the room. Christian, a youngling like me, slid out of the shadows and smiled at me, the candlelight reflecting off the points of his fangs.  
Christian was my closest friend here in The Coven. He had been Turned only days before me – in actuality he was about twenty-four, three years older than me – but in vampires terms, he was only four days my senior. We'd been in the same boat at the time, new and scared. But he'd helped me cope with the shock of everything.  
He had adjusted very well to vampire life. His calm, poetic nature seemed suited to a life of shadows and moonlight. He was always immaculately dressed in a white shirt and grey suit trousers, his auburn hair combed back behind his ears. He was such a gentleman it was hard to imagine him Feeding. God forbid he should get a drop of blood on that crisp shirt.  
"As always, Christian, it is eleven o'clock at night, not morning," I said dryly as I stepped out of my coffin and smoothed down my white cotton nightdress.  
He shrugged, an eloquently liquid movement. "As always, darling Ana, it is _our_ morning."  
I waved away his excuse. We rose with the moon, not the sun, but I still thought of this time as night. The Elder vampires said that would change with time, that I would begin to align my perspective of time with theirs.  
The air was cool and musky, and my throat was dry, my stomach hollow. Christian held out a green plastic bottle filled with blood. He knew I always needed to Feed first thing when I woke up. I took the bottle gratefully and guzzled down the sweet contents, wiping my hand across my mouth to catch the drops that escaped my lips.  
Christian arched one perfect eyebrow. "You're such a messy eater."  
"You," I replied, "are such a dickhead."  
He laughed, white teeth glinting. He had such a nice laugh – so unrestrained and leisurely. If laughing were sex, Christian would be a porn star.  
"My darling little Ana." Christian shook his head, amused. His eyes, like chips of quartz trapped behind glass, fixed on mine. He was so beautiful. And so tempting. "One day, I will teach you some manners."  
I shivered in delight at the thought of Christian teaching me anything. We had been playing this game for months now – playing at friendship when we both knew there was more to it. It was a titillating, torturous game. It was also a careful balancing act. We were both so young in terms of being Turned, our passions and hungers were heightened still. If we allowed ourselves to give in to the desire sizzling between us, one of could get hurt.

We had been warned that sex often triggered the instinct to Feed, and younglings like us were unable to control ourselves in such a situation. Couples who'd be Turned before had been known to kill one another during sex.  
Chistian lifted one pale hand to my face, his fingertips hovering an inch from my cheek. His eyes were dark and lazy, but I could feel the tension in the tiny space between his skin and mine. Then he lowered his hand and whispered, "One day."


	3. Chapter 3

** Christian **

Ah, my sweet, darling Ana. She was so innocent, so naïve. She thought me such a gentleman, but she didn't know that underneath my polite words, I dreamed of fucking her like a wild animal.  
I watched her coffin every morning, just waiting for her to emerge in her thin, clinging nightdress. The loose fabric hinted at the glorious curves underneath. I also took an obscene pleasure in watching her Feed, hungrily devouring the crimson contents of the bottle I brought her.  
I could imagine her lips, not around the bottle, but around me. Not blood she swallowed, but something else entirely. My fingers would be pale against her ebony hair, and then she would look up at me with her mouth wet and beg me to Feed from her…  
A sudden noise of hissing and shrieking brought me abruptly me from my crude imaginings, and I sighed. Two younglings were fighting – again. I didn't deign to get involved. One of the other Elders would take care of it. I preferred to stay where I was, lingering on the balcony in the moonlight.  
The air was cool and fresh, smelling of rotting leaves and dew drops. I had always liked Autumn in my human years, though that was many decades ago now. I wondered, unhappily, if Ana would be afraid of me once she knew the truth – that I was not a youngling like her; that had been a ruse designed to comfort her and help her settle into her new un-life.  
I had been a well-mannered young man in my time, of middle class and quite talented with a violin. But my penchant for loose women had found me in the arms of a creature with fangs and blood-red eyes. What I would have done had that vampire not stayed to mentor me, I'm not obliged to think about.  
Angelica. That was her name, my murderer and mentor. She had been the opposite of what Ana was, sharp where Ana was soft, seductive where Ana was sweet. But they had the same ebony hair and clear eyes.  
I suspected my psyche had chosen Ana for exactly that reason, but I loathed dwelling on the thought. Angelica had been an unpleasant woman, and our relationship had been wild and uncomfortable. I had been almost relieved when the sunlight took her.  
"Christian."  
I turned at the sound of my name. In the doorway to the balcony stood Rafe. He was older than I in vampire terms, though only eighteen at the age he'd been Turned. He stood some three inches shorter, and his crown of golden curls was backlit from the house like an unlikely halo. Rafe had been the one who found me after Angelica was gone. He was my oldest and closest friend – such friends as vampires could be.  
"Rafe," I replied evenly, leaning my elbow on the balcony railing. Flecks of rust ground like grit under my arm.  
He smiled thinly, his fangs securely hidden. In the time he'd been born, vampires and witches were still hunted vigorously. He had learned to be very discreet, and had not broken the habit in some four hundred years. "Brooding, again, my friend?" he asked.  
I tilted my head toward the moon. It was half-full tonight – a good time for vampires to be out. No chance of werewolves being on the prowl. "Perhaps," I answered thoughtfully.  
"Perhaps you should take this time to hunt. You haven't been in over a month. You need the release."  
Frowning, I made a non-committal sound. Rafe believed that hunting wild animals once a month kept us balanced, kept our hunger and ferocity from building up to the point where we would snap and take a human life.

Soon, it would be time for Ana's first real meal. I would bring her a bird at first, to get her used to the idea of Feeding from an animal. Then perhaps a fox. And then I would take her out into the vast wooden area surrounding The Coven's large country home, and I would teach her to hunt.  
I was rather looking forward to the experience. To letting Ana loose.  
A hand landed on my shoulder, and I blinked. Rafe looked up at me with sharp blue eyes. "My friend, go and hunt. You have been far too preoccupied of late." The wry twist of his lips told me he knew exactly the cause of my brooding preoccupation. He added more solemnly, "Be careful with the youngling. They are…so fragile."  
With that final warning, he slunk back into the house, closing the balcony doors behind him. I leaned heavily on the railing. It would be wise to take his advice, on both accounts. The hunting and Ana. But for the moment, only one was easily resolved.  
I unbuttoned my cuffs and rolled my sleeves to my elbows. I usually preferred to change my shirt before hunting, as blood could leave an awful stain. But I feared that if I went back inside, I might run into Ana and forget my hunt.  
Tilting my chin to the wind, I caught the scent of a large, warm-blooded animal – a deer, no more than a half mile from my location. Skilled as I was, it would doubtless be a simple hunt. But a good Feeding might clear my mind.  
I placed a hand on the railing and tossed myself elegantly over it. The three-storey drop was short, and my landing silent. With a final thought as to where Ana might think I am, I shook off the cocoon of my humanity and began my hunt.

You can check out my other works on Amazon under penname H.G. Lynch. Links on my profile.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Three

** Ana **

As a youngling, I wasn't yet allowed outside without an escort, and since all the Elders were busy trying to keep other younglings from ripping each other apart, I was resigned to staying indoors and wandering the corridors of the huge, old country house I had learned to call home.  
The floors were made from ancient wooden boards that creaked at the slightest pressure, the walls papered in shades of maroon and beige with flowery patterns. Attempts had been made to bring the house into the modern day, such as with the shiny chrome kitchen and the flat-screen TV in the parlour.  
But the place had a feel of immeasurable oldness. As if it had been standing for centuries, and had seen too many lives inside it to care anymore who occupied its cold rooms. Somehow, ridiculously, that made me sad – sad for the house. It had probably once been home to a lovely family, the corridors filled with the laughter of children and the smell of cooking. Now, it was home to monsters.  
Shaking myself from those saddening thoughts, I wondered where Christian had gotten to. He rarely left me to my own devices – I thought perhaps he worried about me overmuch. He was somewhat protective, which was both sweet and a little discomfiting.  
After all, I was hardly younger than him in vampire terms; we both were equally strong. Vampirism, apparently, did not pay any attention to sexist evolutionary traits. Men and women were on even footing in every way. Only age made a difference to strength, both mental and physical.  
Bored and curious, I decided to go looking for Christian. I checked the parlour, the kitchen, even the Day Rooms, but he was nowhere to be seen. Miffed, I returned to the top floor and waited by the glass balcony doors. I watched the stars spinning across the sky in slow motion, and opened my senses as the younglings were taught.  
Suddenly, I could feel the lightest draft of air on my skin and the intangible Glow of unlife that vampires emanated. I could smell the distinctive scents of every vampire in the vicinity and the perfume of the roses on the table by the front door. I could hear the hum of the old water pipes embedded in the walls, and taste the stale blood on the breath of the younglings.  
I closed my eyes and tried to focus as the Elders had said, to pick out one scent, one Glow. My senses narrowed on one youngling, my mind building an image from the scent and the Glow – male, a few months older than I in vampire terms, but dark haired. Not Chrisitian.  
I tried again, this time pinpointing a male younger than I, but with auburn hair two shades darker than Christian's. I huffed in frustration. It would take me hours to find him this way. I would just have to wait for _him_ to find _me_.

"Rise and shine, my darling Ana."  
I opened my eyes, Christian's soft voice echoing inside my coffin. Instantly, I was flooded with a storm of emotion – relief, joy, anger. Sitting up, I shoved off the lid, and turned my attention to the corner where he lurked. At the sight of him, all the anger I had acquired through the night while I waited and waited for him, searching the house three times in case I had missed him hiding in a shadow somewhere, disappeared like morning fog burned off by the sunrise.  
He was as beautiful as ever, though slightly disheveled. His usually crisp shirt had a wrinkle in it by the collar, the cuffs unbuttoned and hanging loose around his slim wrists. His auburn hair was damp, as if he'd showered just moments before coming to wake me. His scent was stronger too – the warm steam had opened his pores, bringing his scent to me on tendrils of heat. Fresh and woodsy, like cedar wood and lemongrass, it soothed me down to my bones.  
Drawn to him, I stepped out of my coffin. The floor was cold and gritty under my bare feet, and Rafe held out a bottle of blood to me. I took it, but my hunger was overwhelmed by my need to be near him, to touch him. I hadn't realized how badly I craved his presence until he had been gone last night, leaving me alone for hours.  
I laid down the bottle of blood and stood. My left hand came up of its own volition, and his mouth curled in the most peaceful, satisfied way as my fingertips brushed his cheek. His eyelids fluttered closed, and he laid his hand over mine. His skin was slightly rough with dark stubble.  
Then I was in his arms, my forehead pressed to his chest. "Where were you last night? I missed you."  
He sighed deeply, his chest moving under my ear though he didn't breathe. He was so solid, a wall of perfectly carved flesh. His hands were spread lightly on my back, holding me to him, and I felt a sense of utter completion, of home, of belonging came over me. "Oh, Ana. My Ana."  
There was such longing, almost despair in his voice as he said my name. I pulled back and looked up into his face. There was a sadness in his eyes that disturbed me. I wanted to make it go away – I wanted him to smile, that beautiful smile of his. "What? What's wrong?"  
He bent his head, touching his forehead to mine, and whispered, "Nothing is wrong, my darling. I just wish…"  
I knew what he wished, because I wished it too, and I was sick of wishing. I was tired of playing this game. I'd been falling in love with Christian bit by bit for months. He was my only friend and confidant, a constant presence to protect and soothe me. His beauty, his gentleness, his old-fashioned manner…everything about him was seductive to me.  
I reached up, my fingers stroking across his cheekbones. His bronze lashes cast shadows on the creamy skin below his eyes, strands of auburn hair hanging loose over his brow. I could see the smallest creases around his mouth, the different shades of green in his eyes, a handful of tiny brown freckles on his nose. My chest constricted with the aching need to kiss him, an unbearable pressure.  
But just as I lifted myself on my toes, my eyes closing, he snatched my hands away from his face. I stumbled back in surprise, and hurt. I stared at him, grasping my hands to my chest. His jaw was set, his eyes blazing. "No," he growled.  
My heart raced. I was startled by the dark vehemence in his voice. He'd never raised his voice to me before, nor handled me so harshly. There was an edge to him, his posture. For just a moment, I was afraid. Of Christian. It was so confusing. "I'm sorry," I breathed. "I…I'm sorry."  
With tears in my eyes, I fled the room. I didn't care that I wasn't dressed, or that I hadn't fed. I just needed to escape, to get away from Christian and his rejection.

******* Don't forget to review! And you can check out my other works on Amazon under penname H.G. Lynch. *******


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Four

*** Christian ***

As Ana fled, I slid down the wall and put my head in my hands. I hadn't meant to frighten her. I had seen the emotion in her crystalline eyes, seen the trepidation and longing on her sweet face, and I'd balked. She was in love with me, I had known it for weeks, but to see it so plainly on her face…it hurt me.

It hurt me because I was lying to her every day, every time I spoke to her and didn't tell her who I really was, how old I was…and there was my darkest secret, the one that only Christian knew. My greatest shame. The thing that, if Ana ever knew, she would hate me for eternity.

Dear God, what had I done? How had I gotten myself into this situation? I knew perfectly well. It had started as guilt. Guilt for what I had done. But over time, the guilt had faded and been replaced by a craving – a craving for Ana, to have her in my arms and in my bed.

I had fallen in love with her, too.  
Fate was a cruel mistress. I could never have Ana, not really. She would never have me if she knew the truth, and my conscience would not allow me to make her mine without telling her everything. To do that would make me irredeemable. Whatever soul I still had, would be trapped in the pits of hell from the day I met the sunlight – and I had no doubt that I one day would grow tired of this half-existence and do as my maker had, and walk into the sunrise.


	6. Chapter 6

I've decided to continue this story as an original work, instead of a fanfic. If you'd like to continue reading it, you'll find it on under the story title Seduced By Blood. Author name: EmberJennings.


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